


Love and Work

by burnt_oranges



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance, Skater!Victor, secret agent!Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:37:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9883679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnt_oranges/pseuds/burnt_oranges
Summary: "Let me get this straight," Victor said slowly. "You were a secret agent for the Japanese government.""An intelligence agent," Yuuri corrected and then when Victor's eyebrows started rising dangerously, he said, quickly, "But yes, that's right."Victor stared at him. "But you cry at dog commercials.""Are the two things mutually exclusive?" Yuuri said weakly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> warning: references to human trafficking

* * *

* * *

 

Yuuri eyed the extensive line of expensive face creams that Victor had stacked from one end of the sink to the other; Yuuri swore that they were breeding in the night. Yuuri's toothbrush had been shunted off to one side, bristles dangling precariously over the trash can that was underneath the sink. Victor's silk briefs hung over the lip of the trash can, like they had been thrown there by a particularly high-end stripper ("I need support, Yuuri," Victor had protested when all of his underwear had been at the cleaner's and Yuuri had offered his own underwear. Victor going commando in a suit to the skating banquet had been one of the most wonderful and torturous experiences of Yuuri's life, and that included the months-long undercover mission at a ramen shop whose specialty had been katsudon).

Yuuri had spent the last astonishing, wonderful, heart-palpitating two years falling ever-increasingly in love with Victor and trying to train him to put his dirty clothes in the dirty clothes basket. It turned out that when Yuuri had first seen Victor's obsessively neat apartment and thought Victor was the cleanest person he had ever met--and Yuuri had spent much of his career tracking trained killers who were experts in hiding evidence--the truth was that Victor was just _that_ infrequently home and became a horrible slob when given the chance.

"Yuuri, Yuuri," Victor said, barging into the bathroom, already dressed for the rink, and wrapping his arms around Yuuri's shoulders. It was a cold, winter morning in St. Petersburg, and Yuuri burrowed into Victor's warmth, burying his nose in Victor's neck, inhaling the cleaner's laundry detergent and Victor's expensive French cologne and coffee. "You look like a snowman in this robe," Victor said, rubbing Yuuri's arms, which Yuuri couldn't feel because of how thick the robe was, but he still appreciated the idea of Victor's hands on him.

"Russia is a ridiculous country," Yuuri informed him. "Hasestsu has far more reasonable weather."

"But pirozhki," Victor protested.

Yuuri pursed his lips, and when Victor slid his hands into Yuuri's hair, his absolute weakness, Yuuri mumbled, "You may have a point," and silently apologized to katsudon everywhere, the one true love of his heart. 

Victor mouthed the shell of Yuuri's ear in victory, using a hint of tongue, and Yuuri shivered at the sudden shocking heat. "Dinner tonight?" Victor murmured, and Yuuri felt his attention narrow down to the warmth of Victor's breath, the spine-tingling lowness of his voice. Yuuri's knees actually buckled, and he bleakly wondered if Victor's nearness would always dismantle him this easily.

"Y-yes," Yuuri said and turned to slide his hands under Victor's sleek olive green skating sweatshirt, Victor's skin ridiculously soft against his palms; Yuuri supposed Victor's collection of designer soaps were as effective as he claimed, not that Yuuri would ever actually say that to Victor after spending two months pretending to mistake Victor's beauty products for increasingly embarrassing medications ("I didn't realize Viagra came in topical form," Yuuri had remarked, and Victor had collapsed onto the floor in despair) until Victor finally figured out that Yuuri was actually fucking with him. 

Victor cupped the back of Yuuri's head with one hand and kissed him with chapped lips--it was at the point in the skating season when Victor's lips were dry and cracked no matter what deluxe product he used, which Yuuri found horribly endearing. Yuuri licked into Victor's mouth, twining his arms around Victor's neck, debating whether it was worth it to drop the robe so he could feel Victor's body more directly against his when the bathroom felt like the temperature of a frozen wasteland. Victor had the kind of metabolism that was always in over-drive, which made him radiate heat like a furnace, and Yuuri unashamedly used Victor like a space heater in the winter months while sweating immensely in summer when Victor did his best impression of an octopus. 

Victor's phone rang from somewhere behind a face cream with the Darth Vader theme that meant Yakov, and Yuuri fumbled for it with one hand while using the other hand to hold onto Victor's collar so he wouldn't sneak off. Victor pouted when Yuuri thrust the phone into his hand. "I'm coming, I'm coming," Victor said, phone clamped between his ear and his shoulder, and sitting on the toilet to put on his shoes. Yuuri took the phone from him and put it on speaker because past history had shown Victor to be incapable of no-handed phone use for longer than twenty seconds. 

"Stop eating Piggy's face and actually come to practice," Yurio's voice said from the phone, which--Yuuri hadn't gained THAT much weight since he stopped being on active duty. 

"I don't eat his face," Victor argued.

"You slobber," Yurio said flatly. "It's disgusting."

Victor's smile widened. "Says the boy who's never been kissed."

Yurio spluttered incoherently, and Yuuri thought of the time he had caught Yurio, red-cheeked and shifty, squirreling away a t-shirt of Otabek's. Yuuri had a moment of silence for Otabek, who probably didn't yet realize that he was stuck with Yurio for life. 

Victor hung up and jumped to his feet before kissing Yuuri lingeringly one last time. The GPF was in less than a month, which meant Victor was practicing long, tedious hours, and Yuuri  _missed_ him. Victor held up Yuuri's hand and kissed his ring once, twice, three times, so Yuuri could utilize their kiss storage system even though that was typically reserved for being away from each other for longer periods of time. But sometimes when the skating season was in full-force, Yuuri still felt like he was in a long-distance relationship--Phichit liked to call him a war-bride and send him soft-core porn videos, claiming it was for the lonely nights--despite the fact that Victor was only fifteen minutes away at the rink.

The only thing that made Yuuri's embarrassing loneliness better was that Victor was even more pathetic, needing more kisses in the storage system than Yuuri and texting as incessantly as he could with Yakov breathing down his neck. 

When Yuuri finally peeled Victor off and sent him to the rink before Yakov decided to simplify his life by strangling Victor, Yuuri biked to the florist shop. Yuuri had once worked as a florist for an assignment, and he found that working as a florist was far less stressful when he didn't have to wonder if he was selling flowers to the person behind the third largest human trafficking ring in the world. Yuuri found that he liked arranging larkspur and baby's breath for maximum aesthetics, he liked counseling the clueless men that came in looking for flowers that said I-know-I-fucked-up-and-I'm-sorry-even-though-I-don't-know-what-I-did, he liked the little kids that wanted to softly touch all the petals--and perhaps, most of all, he liked the wide, happy smiles of people who had gotten exactly what they were looking for. Maybe it wasn't as significant as breaking up a human trafficking ring, but it hurt his heart less, let him sleep at night.

Victor sent him increasingly illicit texts throughout the day of different, nude body parts that he had to be taking in a bathroom stall, although Yuuri wouldn't put it past him to be doing it in full view of the rink. Yuuri sent Victor a photo of his ass, which Victor had a particular fondness for with the claim of being its number one fan, and ignored Victor's text of  _Why clothes???_   Yuuri was still in the midst trying to decipher if Victor had actually made an instagram solely for his ass, the idea of which was...troubling. Yurio called him mid-after noon to make retching noises before hanging up, which made Yuuri despair of Victor's tendencies toward shamelessness and escalation. 

Yuuri hoarded his last ring-kiss until he left work, to leave as little time as possible between that and kissing the real thing, which Yuuri was never, ever admitting to anybody. However, as soon as Yuuri walked in the door, he was ambushed by a very excited poodle and Yurio's dulcet tones. "What is going on?" Yuuri said, once he freed himself from Makkachin, and walked into the kitchen. 

"Contraband ice cream," Victor said, wrestling a tub of strawberry from Yurio because both of them didn't actually like chocolate, which Yuuri suspected he would spend the rest of his life trying to process. Mila had chocolate fudge brownie ice cream all to herself and was eating only the brownie bits, Georgi looked like he might be crying into his rocky road, and someone had propped their phone on a bar stool and face-timed Chris, who was eating peach-colored popsicles in a terrifying manner. It was then, amidst the leaning tower of ice cream tubs, that Yuuri noticed Nishigiri wedged between vanilla and chocolate chip cookie dough.

Yuuri's mouth dropped open as Nishigori took control of his ice cream prison and stole Georgi's rocky road. "What--what are you doing here?" Yuuri asked, voice rising into a register that potentially only Makkachin could hear because she had hidden her face under her little poodle paws. 

"Can't I visit an old friend?" Nishigori said, shoving the chocolate chip cookie dough tub into Yuuri's lap with a spoon. Yuuri reflexively started eating out of emotional self-defense. 

"He was waiting outside," Victor said, having finally claimed dominion over Yurio, who Mila currently had in a headlock. 

"Should we--should--" Yuuri said, waving his hands helplessly.

"Just spit it out," Yurio snapped from within Mila's loving embrace.

"It can wait until later," Nishigori said kindly, which just meant whatever news Nishigori had was going to be extra horrible. 

Mila liberated Yurio, who proceeded to shove a giant spoonful of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream without the brownie bits into Yuuri's mouth. 

"Ishfoht--foushed--ahfighth--" Yuuri said, fighting off brain freeze.

"You are a piggy," Yurio reassured him.

"The cutest one in the world," Victor said brightly, kissing the top of Yuuri's head. 

"Fanks," Yuuri said as dryly as he could while his mouth was still full of ice cream. 

Later, after all the skaters had passed out from too much sugar in the living room while watching _Ice Princess_ , Nishigori dragged Yuuri into the guest bedroom that was really Yurio's bedroom at this point--the room was covered in cat-related paraphenalia, and Yuuri knew for a fact that Otabek's t-shirt was underneath Yuurio's pillow (which had a print of a tiger on it). Yuuri didn't want to know what Yurio kept in the closet. "Long time, no see," Nishigori said, pounding Yuuri on the back hard enough that he almost fell over. 

"When are you leaving?" Yuuri said, sitting gingerly on the edge of Yurio's bed.

"So rude," Nishigori said cheerfully, swinging the desk chair around to sit on it backward. 

"Nishi--" Yuuri started.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Nishigori said, grinning, before abruptly sobering, which made Yuuri lace his hands tightly together in his lap, his palms sweating, to brace for whatever was coming next. "You know what it means that I had to come in person."

"But I don't work for the PSIA anymore," Yuuri said stupidly.

Nishigori scrubbed a hand over his face. He had new lines at the corners of his mouth that hadn't been there the last time Yuuri saw him. "You've been made," Nishigori said bluntly. "Sokolov's watching you."

Yuuri felt himself go white, all the blood draining out of his face, his heart retreating to somewhere near his kidney. "How long?" Yuuri said through numb lips. 

"A month," Nishigori said and then, "Breathe, Yuuri, we've got people on it, they're outside right now."

Yuuri sucked in a shaky breath and tried not to pass out, blinking rapidly to clear the black dots in front of his eyes. "Victor walks to the rink," Yuuri said finally in a low voice.

"You are not tailing him," Nishigori said sharply.

"But--" Yuuri tried.

"You are two years out of the game, and you'll tip off Sokolov," Nishigori said, immovable. 

"If anything happens to Victor," Yuuri said, trailing off, feeling nauseating vertigo, like looking over a steep chasm and not being able to see the bottom.

"Nothing is going to happen to Victor," Nishigori said confidently. "We're probably three days away from catching Sokolov."

Yuuri knew how the PSIA worked--no information until absolutely necessary--but it was still hard to swallow down the retrospective terror for Victor, who was a brilliantly gifted skater and had no idea how to defend himself. Yuuri knew two things about Sokolov: he took failure very personally, and he didn't care about collateral damage. If Sokolov really wanted to hurt Yuuri--well, Yuuri's greatest vulnerability had five gold medals and was plastered all over the television.

"That was the case that made me quit," Yuuri said eventually. All of those women and children--hollow-eyed, hurt. Many of them orphans with nowhere to go. Yuuri had kept track of every single one of them until Nishigori made him stop because Yuuri had stopped sleeping and--even more worrisome to Nishigori--started losing weight. Yuuri had met Victor at the end of that case when Yuuri had gone to the local rink to try to stop thinking about all those fucking blue camping tents where the men had--and--well, Yuuri had skated in college with Phichit, in Detroit, before choosing a career in poli-sci, and he just remembered how cold and clean the ice was, the unbroken whiteness where the only thing you had to think about was staying on your feet. 

All Yuuri had been looking for was some sort of small catharsis to keep him going until he left for the airport, but what he found was Victor Nikiforov, living legend, gliding in and out of clumps of families and shaky-footed teenagers on even shakier dates. Victor was like a shining sun, all bright blonde hair and startling blue eyes, his smile gleaming and magnetic. Yuuri had soaked him in from afar, committing his image to memory for the night-flight home when he would probably drive the financial department crazy charging airplane wi-fi to the government so he could continue tracking down families. Yuuri hadn't really skated in years, but Victor Nikiforov had been his childhood idol and then his adolescent object of lust, and he still googled youtube videos of Victor's performances when he needed to calm down. Yuuri only had time to think, Phichit is going to be so jealous, before Victor Nikiforov skated in his direction and actually introduced himself, as if Yuuri could possibly NOT know who he was. 

"You move like a dancer," Victor had said, running long fingers through his blonde hair.

"I danced for years," Yuuri confessed but then he fought and killed, and it felt like a hole burning in his stomach, and he didn't know how to fix it and--

"You're beautiful," Victor said, completely unselfconscious, his smile heart-stopping and just for Yuuri. 

"Oh," Yuuri had said, embarrassingly pleased, turning bright red. 

The first thing Yuuri did when he returned to Japan was quit the PSIA. The second thing he did was call Victor. Yuuri couldn't remember the last time he had felt so alive, and it saw him through the roiling fear of having no plan for the first time in his life.

But now Nishigori was once again sitting in front of Yuuri as if Yuuri had never left Japan. "You're thinking too much," Nishigori said and put Yuuri in a sideways chokehold to give him a noogie, which was Nishigori's version of comfort. Yuuri often wished Nishigori had a wider repertoire of comforting responses.

Yuuri flopped around like a fish until Nishigori finally let go. "Victor should know," Yuuri said, straightening his shirt, and then swallowed hard. "He's in danger because of me."

"We are not going down this path," Nishigori said sternly.

"What path," Yuuri tried.

"It's like you're asking for another noogie," Nishigori said reflectively.

After all sleepy skaters had gone home, Yuuri requested to be the one to tell Victor. But half a minute in, sitting across from Victor at their little, beloved breakfast table, Yuuri had to stop, unable to look Victor in the eye because Victor's eyes were just so blue and trusting, and Yuuri hadn't been...entirely truthful and now they were both paying the price. Nishigori took over, placid as a handler should be, while Yuuri tried to calm his heart rate down from the range that doctors would probably tell him was pre-heart attack territory. 

"Let me get this straight," Victor said slowly, at the end. "Yuuri was a secret agent for the Japanese government."

"An intelligence agent," Yuuri corrected and then when Victor's eyebrows started rising dangerously, he said, quickly, "But yes, that's right."

Victor stared at him incredulously. "But you cry at dog commercials."

"Are the two things mutually exclusive?" Yuuri said weakly.

"Even the ones that are just about dog food," Victor continued, frowning.

"Just--Vicchan--" Yuuri mumbled and then, horrifyingly, felt himself start to tear up. 

"I knew that you had a job you couldn't talk about, that had caused you pain," Victor said quietly, tilting his head. "I didn't imagine this, though."

"I'm really sorry," Yuuri said, breath hitching, and he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms to try to control himself. 

Victor looked at him, inscrutable, his mouth tight and thin, unrecognizable, and Yuuri wondered if this was it, if he had pushed their relationship too far--but then Victor sighed, lips softening, and he was once again the Victor that Yuuri had kissed that morning. "Oh, Yuuri," Victor said, opening his arms, and Yuuri all but dived into them, sinking into Victor's strong chest, his warmth, his stupidly expensive Gucci shirt that Yuuri was going to cry all over and ruin in t-minus thirty seconds. "I'm not happy about this," Victor said softly. "But I can understand it."

"I wanted to tell you," Yuuri confessed, wiping his face on his sleeve. "I thought about it all the time."

"That would have broken at least 10 different laws," Nishigori piped up.

"You wanted to tell me?" Victor said, sounding enormously cheered by the fact that Yuuri had wanted to break 10 different laws for him.

"Of course," Yuuri cried, mouth trembling. 

"And then he would have gone to jail," Nishigori chirped.

"You would have gone to jail for me?" Victor said, starting to sound a little choked up, leaning back so he could clutch at his left pectoral muscle.

"Which would have been a shame," Nishigori said wistfully. "He was the best agent we had."

"Yuuri?" Victor said dumbly. "Katsuki Yuuri?"

"He set all kinds of records for fitness tests when he first joined," Nishigori said, leaning forward and spreading his hands on the table. "His number of successfully completed missions was so high, he actually became a legend while still working for us. Some people thought he was a myth, that he didn't actually exist."

"If I'm remembering correctly, you started those rumors," Yuuri said, straightening to glare at him. "The new tea lady wouldn't serve me for weeks because she thought I was making my name up!"

Nishigori waved a hand dismissively. "Don't be such a diva."

Yuuri gaped. "You--you--"

Victor pressed his index finger against his mouth, and said, "Yuuri, if you were so good, why did you quit?"

Yuuri slowly turned to Victor, mouth still open. "Um," he said.

"You," Nishigori said helpfully. "He didn't want to have to lie to you and put you in danger."

"And yet, the same results seem to have been achieved," Victor said wryly.

Yuuri winced.

"At first, I was going to force you to take responsibility for taking our best guy by making your life a living misery," Nishigori said thoughtfully.

"Er," Victor said. "What stopped you?"

"That Yuuri was happier than I had ever seen him," Nishigori said seriously, which was sweet enough that Yuuri almost forgave him for making him cry every day for a month when Yuuri first started working with him. 

Victor's arms tightened convulsively around Yuuri before loosening. "Is that true?" Victor asked, solemn in a way Yuuri had never seen before. Yuuri slid off Victor's lap and into his own chair, so he could look Victor fully in the eye.

"Victor," Yuuri said quietly, hands braced on the tops of his thighs. "You're the first person I've ever wanted to hold onto." Yuuri took a deep, lung-clearing breath. "I--I know what love is now because of you."

"Yuuri," Victor said, starting to tear up now too, his nose turning an unattractive red. 

"Aren't you--going to say anything back?" Yuuri said hopefully after a long moment of silence.

"That shirt is horrible," Victor said, sniffing, giving a watery smile. "I've been wanting to burn it all day."

 Yuuri slumped in his chair, kicking Nishigori when he snickered.

After another hour of debriefing, in which more of Yuuri's dubious workplace past was revealed than actual information relevant to the case, Nishigori finally ended Yuuri's misery. "I need to go," Nishigori said, checking the time on his phone. "Just go about your daily business, and I'll be in touch."

"That's it?" Victor said. 

"We'll be watching you 24/7, of course," Nishigori said matter-of-factly. 

"That's...comforting," Victor said doubtfully.

"Yuuri can kill a person 47 different ways," Nishigori added.

When Victor then looked at Yuuri in an uncomfortably speculative way, Yuuri hurriedly said, "Okay! Nishigori said he has to leave, and we wouldn't want to get in his way," while pushing Nishigori toward the door. Nishigori was snickering again, the traitor.

After Nishigori left, Yuuri followed Victor's lead and showered separately, taking no joy in it. He sniffed Victor's shampoo like a creep and wished they could go back to this morning, before Yuuri's past had punched them both in the face. When they were finally lying in bed, a careful distance between them, Victor said, "I'm sorry we didn't get to have dinner. The others were very excited."

"It's my fault too," Yuuri said, turning on his side to face Victor, who lay on his back, his profile limned with light from the street lamp outside the window. "With Nishigori and all."

"You're right," Victor said thoughtfully. "That was much worse."

Yuuri cringed but tentatively reached for Victor's hand, unable to help himself when Victor was warm and present, only fifteen centimeters away. Victor immediately laced his fingers with Yuuri's and brought Yuuri's fingers to his lips. "Where did you even get all the ice cream?" Yuuri asked, finally relaxing for the first time since he got home.

A silence commenced that was so long, Yuuri started to suspect Victor had fallen asleep, which wouldn't be the first time Victor had used sleep to avoid answering questions. "Yakov's secret stash," Victor said finally.

"...We're all going to die," Yuuri said gloomily.

* * *

* * *

 Three weeks later, Sokolov still hadn't been caught, and Victor and Yuuri were supposed to leave for Barcelona for the GPF in a week.

"Nishigori," Yuuri said, pretending to be absorbed in the English newspaper he had bought. "This isn't working."

Nishigori, who was sitting in the booth behind him, back-to-back, said, firmly, "No, Yuuri."

"Even you said I'm the best," Yuuri argued, noisily flipping a page.

"You're way out of practice," Nishigori retorted. "It's a recipe for disaster."

"Getting on a plane in a week is a recipe for disaster," Yuuri said, exasperated.

"So don't," Nishigori suggested.

Yuuri would die before getting in the way of Victor's dream and didn't dignify that with a response. 

"Just sit tight," Nishigori said, conciliatory. "Give us a few more days."

"That's what you said weeks ago," Yuuri said, taking a sip of tea and reflecting that he would never understand the Russian habit of ruining perfectly good tea with fruit-flavored jam; this was one of his and Victor's many ongoing arguments, which included but was not limited to how many lamps were actually necessary in a particular room and whether Victor should be allowed to garden in his designer coat.   

Nishigori sighed. "You don't work for us anymore," he reminded Yuuri, which wasn't a no.

"I'll be careful," Yuuri assured him.

"I'm sure I don't know anything about this," Nishigori said dryly. 

Yuuri smiled into his tea. 

* * *

* * *

 The first thing Yuuri decided was that if he was doing his job right, Victor would never have to know that Yuuri had involved himself in the investigation. Victor's sleep and routine had suffered moderately in the first week after Yuuri's confession, but Victor had finally been able to sink deeply into the practice-mode that was characteristic of the time right before competition, in which he barely spoke to Yuuri during meals, left the apartment before Yuuri woke up, and came home when Yuuri was already in bed.

Yuuri called into work sick and guiltily made a trip to his secret storage locker full of....borrowed...things from the PSIA, which Nishigori really actually--well, probably--didn't know about. Yuuri packed a non-descript, metal-lined black bag with an encrypted laptop and phone, a Kevlar vest, tranqs, his enhanced glasses, and his gun. Yuuri hid the bag where he was sure Victor would never go: the cleaning supply closet.

Yuuri spent the next two days badgering Nishigori and computer-hacking to collect information, working all day and then waiting until Victor fell asleep to slip out of bed and work more. This level of sleep deprivation wasn't ideal, but Yuuri had to work _fast_ , so he could protect Victor, so Victor could continue to do what he was best at--skating and loving Yuuri. 

On the third day, Yuuri dragged himself out of bed when Victor woke up in order to make breakfast. "Go back to sleep," Victor whispered to Yuuri when Yuuri struggled upright out of the tangle of blankets.

"I want to spend time with you," Yuuri said, fumbling his glasses onto his face just in time to see Victor break out in a delighted smile, which made Yuuri feel like the lowest human being on the planet because Yuuri was only awake to tail Victor to the rink. Yuuri supposed it was time spent together, of a sort, if you squinted really hard.

Victor said, gently, "I love spending time with you too. But Yuuri, you look tired."

"I'm--fine," Yuuri said evasively. 

"Have you not been sleeping?" Victor said, starting to frown.

"Oh, you know," Yuuri said, laughing nervously. "Just the situation."

 Victor's face smoothed out into the confident mask that meant Victor was just as nervous, but he was going to pretend to be calm to comfort Yuuri. "It's going to be fine," Victor said. "Yet another secret agent--"

"Intelligence agent--" Yuuri corrected automatically.

"--is arriving today," Victor finished. "I'm sure this will all be taken care of by the time we have to leave."

"Yes," Yuuri said, pasting a smile on his face. "I'm sure it will be."

After breakfast, Victor left for the rink after mechanically brushing his teeth and a semi-perfunctory kiss. Yuuri didn't feel great about following Victor, but he would much prefer Victor to be alive and mad at him than dead. Yuuri took off his robe, underneath of which he was dressed in an old mission outfit, and jogged a safe distance behind Victor. The real problem was the rink--he wouldn't be allowed inside during Victor's practice time as a disguised stranger, and Victor would definitely know he was there if he went as himself. 

Yuuri set up shop on the roof of the rink and hacked into the security cameras, which fortunately were plentiful so he didn't have to sneak into any air ducts. Air ducts had once been the bane of his existence; Nishigori had liked to take bets on what disgusting thing Yuuri would find. Yuuri watched Victor perform his routine over and over again, hearing the scrape of blades on ice, trying to imagine the music that went along with it. Yuuri most frequently saw Victor's routines in a state of deconstruction, with Victor practicing difficult moves in the living room and playing the clip of music that accompanied it, or hearing the full song in the car and not knowing any of the routine. Victor liked to surprise, and Yuuri was happy to be surprised, to wait until Victor was in his Mario star mode and dazzling everyone at the competition.

Yuuri zoomed in on Victor's face, the grimness of his expression, sweat darkening the collar of his shirt, and Yuuri's heart ached. Victor could look serious when practicing but not like this, not like he was a soldier, going to war on the losing side. It confirmed to Yuuri what Victor had been holding back from him, and Yuuri wondered if Victor was trying to protect him or just didn't trust him. Yuuri wouldn't blame him at all if it was the latter, although the thought of that made his stomach twist into knots. Yuuri sat back on his heels and sighed, glancing at the corporate building across the street where the new agent sat in the window, not doing a very good job of hiding himself. 

Yuuri texted Nishigori from his civilian phone in their personal code before returning to watching Victor, which frankly, was both business and pleasure. "Keep your eyes only on me," Victor had said in Yuuri's ear the first time Yuuri had watched him compete. Then Victor had given him that knock-out smile and a wink before gliding to the center of the ice, waving at the audience. This probably wasn't what Victor had meant.

In the middle of the afternoon, when Yuuri was shoving nuts in his mouth to distract himself from how fucking cold it was on the roof in the middle of a Russian winter, the rink's fire alarm rang. Yuuri lost track of Victor in the crush of the crowd, but Yuuri knew he was somewhere in the lobby. Yuuri tapped into the outside security cameras and aimed them toward the front doors, waiting for Victor to emerge, counting down from five, at which point he would enter the building himself. Victor walked out with Yurio and then continued down the street.

Yuuri cursed under his breath and rappelled down the one side of the building with no doors before running after Victor. He knew all of Victor's favorite haunts, and Victor was probably heading in the direction of the specialty tea shop with mother-of-pearl spoons, which Yuuri thought was completely pretentious but it made Victor happy when Yuuri came with him and watched him shop. Yuuri's heart-rate slowed once he had Victor in eyesight again, and Yuuri weaved ahead of them so Victor was coming toward him rather than away. 

Yuuri was too far away to hear what they were saying, but Victor was laughing and Yurio looked even more irritated than usual, and also red, which meant they were probably discussing Otabek's upcoming visit. Yuuri only had time to breathe all the way out, seeing Victor's smile, before he registered precise, fast movement in his peripheral vision. 

Yuuri aimed a tranq while running full-tilt toward Victor, and fired at the man in the sweatshirt also running toward Victor. The man tripped over his feet and dropped like a stone. Yuuri tackled Victor to the ground. "Everyone down!" Yuuri shouted, yanking Yurio down beside Victor when he still stood, frozen, staring at Yuuri in shock. Yuuri scanned the nearby buildings, looking for a sniper with his enhanced glasses. Yuuri spotted the new agent who had supposedly arrived to protect them today , which confirmed Yuuri's suspicion of a mole. The agent angled his long-range weapon toward them, dead-on, and Yuuri stood up, switching his tranq for a hand-gun, wishing he had a rifle. "Sniper in bookstore on the corner of Tupolevskaya Street," Yuuri said into his microphone.

"Already on it," Nishigori said in Yuuri's ear-piece. "Keep the three close-range threats busy. Reinforcements are coming."

Yuuri watched as Nishigori's people ambushed the sniper, but not before the sniper got off one shot, which thankfully went wide and only clipped the edge of Yuuri's ear. Yuuri looked down to see Victor covering Yurio. Other civilians had dropped to the ground and others were running away, which made it difficult to spot threats. Yuuri heard feet pounding on pavement behind him. He swung around, hesitating a split second to determine the danger level, which was enough time for the woman to fire off a shot that created a line of pain across his right shoulder. Yuuri kicked the gun out of the woman's hands before cold-cocking her with his own gun, which wasn't really the smartest idea because the safety wasn't on, but Yuuri was working with limited resources in a civilian-filled street in the middle of a large city. 

Yuuri spotted movement to the side of the cafe in front of him, someone who moved like a fighter, and this time shot with no hesitation; the guy grunted, bleeding from his thigh, and Yuuri switched to the tranq and knocked him out before he could lift his gun. 

"Don't worry about the third threat," Nishigori said with satisfaction. "We got her and Sokolov's location."

"Oh thank god," Yuuri said shakily, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. Victor started to rise, and Yuuri knelt down to place a firm hand on his back. Casualties often happened when you thought it was finally safe. 

"All-clear," Nishigori said. "Signing off. Stand by for debriefing."

"Okay, you can get up now," Yuuri said, and Victor helped Yurio stand. 

"Who are you?" Yurio said, eyes wide, probably not even realizing he was partially hiding behind Victor.

"I'm still Yuuri," Yuuri said, taking a step closer, and wincing when Yurio took a step back. "I just--had a different job than you thought I did."

"No kidding," Yurio said flatly.

"Yuuri, you're bleeding," Victor said, looking far too pale. Yuuri reflexively patted Victor down for injury, starting to panic at the blood on Victor's shirt, before realizing it was his own.

"Maybe you should sit down," Yurio said, edging forward.

Yuuri's knees made the decision for him and collapsed onto the concrete. Victor caught him by the shoulders and helped him lower himself to sitting. "My hero," Victor said, trying to smile, but it didn't have its usual panache. 

"I'm just so glad you're all okay," Yuuri said, feeling woozy. 

Victor gave a short explanation of Yuuri's previous work, arm wrapped around Yuuri's shoulder to keep him upright, while Yuuri tried not to cry and/or pass out.

Yurio squatted in front of Yuuri, hands on his knees, eyes narrowed into slits. "Are you fucking kidding me," Yurio said, a four on the Yakov scale of yelling. "You were a secret agent?"

"Actually, intelligence--" Yuuri started.

"According to Nishigori, he was the best," Victor interrupted, effusive, as if he had never had a moment of doubt in Yuuri's abilities. 

Yurio ratcheted from a four to an eight in one ear-splitting burst, which was impressive as Yurio had previously only managed a seven. Yuuri felt flattered until his ears started to hurt--well, even more--and then he began wishing for the debrief like other people probably wished for death. 

"This is going well," Victor said brightly, as Yurio transitioned from listing all of Yuuri's physical flaws to listing his personality flaws, all of which apparently made him unsuited to being a secret agent.

"This is because I didn't tell him, isn't it," Yuuri said in despair. 

Victor carefully petted Yuuri's hair on the opposite side of the injured ear and looked at him with pity.

"I'm going to owe him so many cat sweatshirts," Yuuri groaned.

"Damn straight," Yurio shouted, definitively proving that he could listen while yelling at the same time. "And  _another thing_ \--did Phichit know?"

Yuuri decided this was as good a time as any to pass out.

* * *

* * *

 Days later, Yuuri and Victor finally boarded the plane to Barcelona. Yakov was punishing Victor for leading the charge into his secret stash by making him travel economy for the foreseeable future, along with a host of other complicated stipulations that Yuuri couldn't keep track of. Victor let Yuuri have the aisle because of his injured ear and shoulder, and then drowned his economy class sorrows in a ridiculous amount of alcohol. Yuuri tried to sneak a tiny bottle, but Victor caught him, waving a finger in Yuuri's face, and saying, "Ah, ah, ah, Yuuri--alcohol and painkillers don't mix."

"You're just still mad that Phichit knew and you didn't," Yuuri complained, and Victor didn't deny it. Yuuri had already apologized numerous times, but he was sure he was going to spend the rest of his life hearing about how Phichit had known but Yuuri's  _own fiancee_ hadn't. Yuuri didn't care as long as Victor stayed by his side; and in any case, Phichit had only known because he was a smart guesser and physically there for that part of Yuuri's life. In fact, Phichit was probably still laughing his ass off about Victor's petulance in Barcelona, as Phichit had flown in on an earlier flight to mitigate the effects of jet lag before the competition. "Yakov's going to strangle you if you're hungover," Yuuri said peaceably. 

Victor made a rude noise in response before proceeding to sob through the entire second half of _Inside Out_ , soaking Yuuri's uninjured shoulder. Yuuri was only surprised Victor had any fluids left in him after all the alcohol and started force-feeding him water.

Later, as the lights dimmed so passengers could sleep, Yuuri caught Victor's hand and waited until Victor took off his in-flight headphones. "You know you make me stronger, right?" Yuuri whispered. 

Victor smiled, full of tenderness, and Yuuri was selfishly glad that no one else got to see it. Victor leaned in to kiss Yuuri on the lips, long and slow in the relative darkness, before pulling back to lean his forehead against Yuuri's. "You make me stronger too," Victor murmured into the space between them. 

Victor had once told Yuuri he had been about to retire when they met. He had burned himself up in the effort to reach the sun, and Victor had wanted to quit while he was ahead before lack of passion turned to hatred. But then he saw a skater with dark hair and who moved like music (his single axel was over-rotated and his spins traveled, but nonetheless), and Victor had felt--inspired again. Victor considered their love a given, like the premise to a geometric proof: how else could it have happened but Victor fell in love with Yuuri? And how else could it have happened other than Yuuri loving him back?

Yuuri had always vaguely wondered how someone could love him, love all of him, and Victor had come as close as Yuuri had let him. Yuuri had been afraid of Victor seeing his shortcomings, his failures, his sadnesses, the acidic ball of shame Yuuri felt when he thought of all the people he couldn't save. But Yuuri hadn't given Victor enough credit, had forgotten that when he opened up--Victor met him where he was at.

Yuuri closed his eyes and smiled as Victor hummed the opening bars to "Stay Close to Me."

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr kink meme prompts 426 and 419: Everyone was a bit shocked when world renowned figure skater Viktor Nikiforv suddenly settled down with ordinary, easily flustered, and completely unknown Yuuri Katsuki. But Viktor adores his fiancé and their obnoxiously domestic life together, and all his friends and fellow skaters come to love him.
> 
> Yuuri is just as content. That is, until the past he worked so hard to leave behind for his love inevitably comes back to haunt him.
> 
> In which Yuuri is a former assassin/secret agent/hitman/whathaveyou with a hell of a track record. He gave up being the best in his field when he met and fell hard for Viktor.
> 
> He didn’t cover up his tracks as meticulously as he thought, and the fallout leaves his fiancé and friends questioning when the hell Mister Ordinary turned into Jason Bourne.
> 
> +
> 
> Florists by day, assassin by night


End file.
